


Who knew the runway could be this complicated?

by tablemanners



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Big Brother Shiro (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Bottom Lance (Voltron), Crushes, Cuban Lance (Voltron), F/M, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), Insecure Lance (Voltron), Light Angst, M/M, Model Lance, Shark - Freeform, Speedos, Top Keith (Voltron), fashion designer keith, keith doesnt use social media, swimmer Lance, two bros chilling in a hot tub five feet apart cause they're not gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2018-11-20 21:45:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11343726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tablemanners/pseuds/tablemanners
Summary: Lance is a well known fashion model, and Keith, the very popular designer, is looking for a lead in his upcoming show. Through several misconceptions, the two form a strained relationship with quite a bit of unresolved tension. Disclaimer: I know nothing of the fashion industry, so don't expect this to be an accurate depiction of the real world.





	1. The Media Sucks (aka setting up the stage)

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to write a fic with these two for a while! This chapter is a short introductory thingy with both Lance and Keith's perspectives, basically setting up the stage. Nothing too thrilling happens yet, but I hope you enjoy it!

The monotonous routine of kicking off the wall and propelling himself through the water helped Lance to distance himself from his thoughts and focus on his form. He had been on a swim team most of his life, even managing to make state his senior year, and he still turned back to swimming when he was troubled. He enjoyed the silence he found underwater, and the weightless sensation he experienced when submerged. It was therapeutic.

Lance had given up swimming after he graduated high school, and somehow found himself caught in the fashion industry. While he quite enjoyed the glam lifestyle that came with modeling, there was also quite a bit of internal pressure from his employers and the agency. While Lance was tall and tan and generally very good looking, he didn’t quite conform to the standards the fashion industry expected. His humor and eating habits upset the higher ups, no matter what his agent did to defend him.

Swimming was supposed to be his comfort, his safe space, and while it still was, it had been infected with more demanding implications. He no longer did it to release his stress; Lance swam when he was told to lose a few pounds, or to bulk up on muscle. Rather than giving himself time to relax in the pool and float around on his back, he found himself doing countless laps almost every day. Swimming had transformed from a happy past time to yet another responsibility added to his hectic life, and this upset him. 

When Lance finally decided he had done enough, he hoisted himself out of the pool and meandered back to his house rather morosely. The lights were off, the house empty and cold to his damp body. The magazine he purchased still sat on the sofa, and the headline hadn’t changed. “Male model Lance Mcclain sacked due to fight with contractor.” There was an old photo of him from a few months ago when he helped a young fashion designer with their debut. He shot his flawless smile straight at the camera with a wink, hands making rather obnoxious finger guns. Underneath the headline were more stories on the fashion industry, yet he had managed to get the headline.

Lance has become very successful in his career despite his setbacks, and was the center of attention for modeling due to his humble beginnings in Cuba. He had come out of nowhere and immediately became one of the most sought for models, which also meant the media was constantly butchering his reputation. His “fight” with his employer had been over his weight. Lance was by no means overweight, he was very fit and healthy, but nothing was ever good enough for those people. So yeah, he fought back, and was kicked out of the show. Big deal. Lance rolled his eyes and threw the magazine on the floor, marching back to his bathroom to begin his skin care routine. Heaven forbid he got a blemish; that would ruin any chances at finding another gig. 

Lance finally crawled into bed, instantly falling into a restless sleep, tossing and turning all night. His confidence had been injured by his contractor, and the same old doubts began to fill his weary mind. He shoved them away and gave into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, he awoke to several messages on his phone all concerning the magazine headline. Hunk, his agent, apologized for not doing enough to stand up to him, ensuring that he was not at fault and that the contractor’s actions were completely uncalled for. “Hey Lance,” the text read, and Lance could almost hear Hunk’s gentle, worried tone: “Please don’t let the media get to you. You are an incredibly talented model and did a great thing standing up for yourself. We will not have any more contracts with those people. Get some rest!” Lance smiled softly, shooting back a ‘thanks’ with a smiley face before moving onto the next notification.

Allura, a fellow model, showed the same concern. “I am so proud you were brave enough to stand up for yourself against those pricks! That was amazing, never doubt your self-worth. Need to talk? <3” Lance thanked her as well, declining her invitation to talk before checking the next message.

Pidge, the only petit model Lance knew, was ecstatic. “Ayyy you slayed that nerd rip lame-o clothesline and their old-fashioned perfectionist standards give ‘em hell Lance my man!!!”

Lance felt a grin spread on his face, glad to have such great (and ridiculous) friends to support him. He sent Pidge a link to the latest trending meme because what are friends for? Pidge immediately responded enthusiastically, as always. He followed Hunk’s orders and relaxed, binging tv shows on Netflix and indulging in junk food for once. 

\----------------

Keith let out a loud sigh, resting his head on the back of his chair. It was done. Finished. Completed. Over. And boy was he grateful. “You okay, Keith?” Shiro, his step-brother, asked from the other room.

“Okay? I’m amazing,” Keith answered in a sing-song voice, grinning ear to ear. “I finished the designs, I can finally sleep!” 

“You finished? That’s great!” Shiro responded with genuine excitement. Shiro used to be a model but decided to retire from modeling early after an unfortunate incident with a shark that took his arm. There was nothing wrong with the prosthetic, but Shiro was content with a part time job at a law firm instead. ‘Too much drama for me in the fashion world,’ he’d say with a shrug.

Keith somehow managed to avoid all of the limelight. He had never been much of a people person, and tended to be reluctant to speak in most interviews. The media had basically learned to ignore him. There were no crazy scandals he was involved with, it was just him and his work. Keith was part of an adoptive family, the Shirogane’s, that helped finance his career at first. Now he did whatever he could to repay them, and roomed with Shiro in some rather nice apartments. That was it. No siblings on crack, no crazy ex-lovers, the only mildly different thing about him was that he was gay, but that wasn’t a crazy stretch for the fashion industry. In fact, quite a large amount of male fashion designers weren’t straight. That was no surprise. So Keith remained both popular yet low key. 

There was a bit of a buzz around him when he announced he was working on a new line of clothing. All of his work had been highly successful, and helped many models advance their careers. Shiro’s girlfriend Allura made her debut with his first show, earning praise and love from the fashion industry. After that, he had done his best to help out new models and did his best to include diversity. 

“That’s fantastic,” Shiro commented, leaning over his shoulder. On his desk, at the top of the stack was the design for a loose fitting and rather revealing sweater bunched up at the waist. It almost resembled a cloak had it been longer. The sleeves were intricately designed, with fabric sketched into numerous unique and stylish patterns. 

Keith felt his face getting red, reaching to cover the drawing. “I’ll still have to fine tune once I finish sewing the prototypes,” Keith informed him, gathering his stack and spinning around to face Shiro. “Can you ask Allura if she’d be willing to model some of the designs for women?” Keith asked, flipping through dresses, skirts, and suits. “She’d be perfect for this one,” He said, sliding a sketch to Shiro. The design was simple and elegant. Long, loose pants connected to a sheer, bedazzled crop top, followed by several sketches of shoes underneath. “She’s so tall, and I was hoping to make it all warm colors ‘cause yellow suits her skin tone so well, but I might use violet too, I haven’t decided.”

Shiro looked over the design, pride displayed on his face. “I’m sure she’d love to, Keith. How many models were you planning to use? You can go ahead and start discussing contracts to get ahead of the game.”

“I’ve got a few in mind,” Keith said, opening up a tab on his computer and scrolling. “I think I want Pidge, the short model, for several pieces. I’m also considering this girl Shay, she’s new to the industry, along with Nyma and some other established models. I need to find more male models.”

Shiro nodded along with his choices, feeling that Keith was thinking very practically. “Have you found any male models you like?”

“There’s one that I, uh, think is pretty… pretty cool,” Keith answered, trying not to blush while he went to the other open tab. “His name’s Lance Mcclain, have you heard of him? He seems very graceful and mature in all his shows, and that’s what I want for these designs,” Keith said honestly. 

“You think he’s pretty, huh? He was actually in the fashion headlines recently, did you see?” Shiro asked, chuckling when Keith shook his head obliviously. “Never mind, I think he’s a great choice. I’m pretty sure he’s friends with Allura, maybe she can recommend it. He is pretty sought after.”

“Really? He’s sought after? Quiznak…” Keith looked disappointed, reaching to close the tab.

“Wait, Keith, are you forgetting who you are? You’re very successful, and he’d be stupid to say no to any partnership with you. I will warn you he turned down Lotor, but--” 

“He turned down Lotor? The most successful designer in the industry? Shiro, no, I’d rather not embarrass myself.”

Shiro frowned, looking more determined. “I wasn’t finished, Keith. Listen, everyone knows Lotor is an asshole, and that’s why Lance turned down the job offer. You’re not an asshole though, plus Allura can help us persuade him. Just send an offer to his agent, alright? No harm there.”

Keith rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. “Okay, okay, gee whiz,” Keith said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll contact his agent, you don’t need to harass me. I’m tired enough as it is!” Keith gestured vividly, looking rather irked. Nevertheless, Keith smiled to himself, a giddy feeling of excitement and anxiety mixed into one freakish melting pot. He couldn’t wait.


	2. First Impressions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course Lance manages to screw up his first meeting with Keith-- but hey, who cares about first impressions?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's kinda short yikes  
> Also!! Important disclaimer: I have no clue how the fashion industry works, this is in no way based on factual stuff, just on how I falsely assume this crap works.

The soft knocking on his front door notified Lance of his visitor. With a grunt, he lifted himself off the couch, brushing aside empty wrappers and stumbling to the door. Lance didn’t even bother to check the peephole before undoing the numerous locks and yanking the door back. 

On the other side stood Hunk, smiling softly and carrying his briefcase, per usual. “Good morning, I’ve got some good news for you!”

“No shit?” He asked, closing the door behind Hunk and leading him to the kitchen table, skillfully avoiding the living room. Hunk didn’t need to know just how much he had stuffed his face. 

“We’ve got an offer for a new line,” Hunk began, pulling papers out of his briefcase and arranging them on Lance’s table. “It’s one of Kogane’s, and he wants to meet with you.”

Lance frowned, trying to remember why the name sounded familiar. He was positive he had seen the name somewhere, but it couldn’t have come from the media. Lance studied the magazines religiously. “Kogane…?” He pushed, hoping for something to jog his memory.

Hunk caught on, sensing his friend’s confusion. “Keith Kogane. Related to the veteran model Shiro, with the shark attack? I believe Allura worked at him with at some point, for the Monarch to Moth series.”

Lance, although still unsure of Kogane’s work, nodded as though he knew exactly what Hunk was speaking of. “Okay, so when does he want to meet? Does he have a contract prepared?” 

Hunk pulled out another sheet of paper with a flourish, nodding professionally. “He faxed this to my office this morning. His conditions are the underlined portions, and salary is highlighted. You’ll sign the real contract if you agree to do the show.”

“I’ll want to look at what he’s got planned before anything’s official,” Lance said as he fumbled over the paper, “but you can go ahead and arrange a meeting. Does he have an office, or a firm, or…?”

Hunk shrugged in response, already returning the papers to the proper spot in his briefcase. “We’ll find out,” he finally said, breathing a sigh of relief and taking off his reading glasses. He immediately relaxed, leaning back more in the chair and sliding the briefcase away. “Business officially closed.”

Lance reclined as well, throwing his arms over his head and stretching. “Professional you always creeps me out, dude. You’re so…”

“Professional?”

“Yeah!” Lance was standing up now, pacing the room excitedly with a new pep in his step. “It’s like you’re my boss or something.”

Hunk recoiled at that, scrunching his nose in disgust. “Really, man? You know we’re equal as can be, I’m more of a glorified babysitter if anything. We’re a team—you look good, and I went to law school.”

Lance gasped dramatically at Hunk’s statement. “I look good? Hunk, my friend, you are gorgeous!”

Now bashful, Hunk began to laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“Wanna catch watch something?” Lance asked, trying to get away from their business talk. He wanted to reminisce to their days in college, huddled around the tiny 10 inch television and watching whatever was on that evening while splitting a pineapple pizza. They had grown up as next-door neighbors, and even when Hunk had gone to college and Lance was working part-time at Home Depot, they stuck together. When the talent scout offered Lance a gig, Hunk helped him sort through the paperwork before he signed some legally binding document he didn’t understand. And here they were, 5 years later, professionally discussing contracts and jobs. It was bizarre. 

Hunk shook his head, standing up. “I’d love to, but I should really get back to Kogane on meeting up.”

Yep, there it was. Professional, responsible Hunk managing his career and Lance’s. Lance couldn’t be disappointed, though, because his gratitude towards Hunk outweighed his desire to watch Brooklyn Nine Nine with the guy. 

It was the next day he received a text from Hunk on the meeting. He was asking if that afternoon, at four, was alright, at the attached address. He shot back a reply without much thought. Although groggy at 7:00 am, Lance was up and changing into his workout clothes. He had allowed himself to indulge in some pretty horrible habits the other day that were in no way good for his health or physique, and he knew he couldn’t afford to get lazy with a possible gig coming up in who knows how many months. So he started with some simple stretches, swinging his arms behind his head and then bending in half to touch his toes, allowing himself to savor the ache of his sore muscles as he reached down.  
He spent an hour running, swimming and lifting before checking the time and showering off. Lance then spent far too long on his rigorous skin care routine, interrupted by the echo of the doorbell ringing throughout his house. 

He skidded to the door, this time gazing through the peephole and deflating when he saw Pidge. He had totally forgotten about their plans for the day, and felt a wave of guilt wash over him as he opened the door with his pasty clay facemask still on his skin. “Pidge! Hey, yeah, I totally didn’t forget,” he began. Pidge looked up at him, irritation easy to read on her face. It was hard to take her seriously with the neon green alien jacket and ripped mom jeans.

“Oh yeah, I suppose you were planning on wearing that facemask to the Downtown Theatre’s screening of The Room?” Lance could tell Pidge wasn’t too upset, but she clearly intended on dragging this out.

“How much time have I got?” Lance asked, invigorated with a greater sense of urgency.

Pidge checked her phone, tapping a foot casually. “The movie isn’t until 2:15, so we’ve got a good three hours. We don’t need to hit the arcade if you need more time.”

Lance was about to nod and run off when he sensed a nagging in the back of his head. “2:15… oh shit!” He dramatically grabbed for his phone, checking the location for the contract signing at 4:00. It was in their area, which meant in as 20-30 minutes from the city, not to mention the movie would run over anyway. “Shit…” he repeated, this time with less conviction. 

“I know that voice,” Pidge said dryly, crossing her arms and squinting. “Seriously? We bought these tickets a month ago!” 

Lance was upset too—it wasn’t like he wanted to miss viewing the worst movie ever with his good pal, even if she was a goblin. “Eh, I’m sure it’ll be fine. I’m supposed to have a contract signing at 4:00, but Hunk’ll be there, and it takes him at least half an hour to go over contracts. I can be a little late. That sounds reasonable, right?”

And of course Pidge, seeing nothing wrong with the proposal, extended a fist bump to Lance and instructed him to “wipe that shit off your face, bitch, we’re about to watch Tommy Wiseau’s finest work!”

So when Lance waltzed into the meeting room at 4:57, all he did was shrug nonchalantly towards Hunk, who glared at him nervously. “Lance, where were you?” He whispered frantically, leaning away from the grouchy looking guy with the hideous mullet. 

“Out with Pidge?” He responded, taking a second glance at the guy with the mullet. Was that Kogane? He certainly didn’t look like he had any sense of style. Nevertheless, he decided the proper thing to do would be to introduce himself. “Hi there, I’m Lance,” he said, even though it was pretty evident at that point. He didn’t bother extending a hand, choosing to sit down in the seat next to Hunk instead. “So Hunk, everything seem good? Safe to sign?”

It wasn’t Hunk that answered. “Do you have any grasp on the concept of time?” The guy was probably in his early twenties, kind of emo, and was wearing leather gloves for some reason. It gave Lance bad vibes, not to mention the hair. Without it, the man might have been able to pull off the “grungy, mysterious” look. He had a nice face and from what Lance could tell, a nice bod. But it was impossible to ignore the hair. He didn’t want to hold it against the guy, but really, a mullet? 

“Well I’m sorry I already had something planned, but I happen to have a life. You gave us, like, a day’s notice on this meeting. You couldn’t possibly expect us to have no previous engagements, I mean really,” Lance was irked, the flabbergasted look on the other guy’s face just annoying him more.

“I asked if that day worked for you! You said yes! I would have moved it back an hour if you had asked!” The guy, whom Lance now assumed was most likely Kogane, was glaring in utter confusion, his jaw hanging lopsided as he narrowed his eyes. “This is not my fault.”

Lance scoffed, a bit panicked in his mind as he realized that Kogane was right. Despite this realization, he refused to back down. That just wasn’t the Mcclain spirit. “That may be—however your whole argument is completely invalid.”

Kogane’s face scrunched up even more. “I never said this was an argument! That doesn’t even make any sense!” He sounded a bit helpless as his face began to redden even more. 

“Ahem,” Hunk cleared his throat loudly, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Lance, meet Keith Kogane. Keith Kogane, meet Lance. I’m sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Kogane, my client is almost always very punctual. This won’t happen again. Now, onto the contract,” Hunk extended a hand, and Keith gave him a thin packet of paper. “I’ve read it over and everything seems fair. Exhibition isn’t for another month and a half, and I’ve confirmed your schedule is free then.” Hunk went over salary, hours, fitting times and more, all the while Lance seemed to be in a trance. Hunk conferred with Keith when there was a question, but Lance was scolding. He sat, his arms crossed, and refused to look in Keith’s direction. Yeah, he was an hour late, and yeah, he felt a little guilty about. However his inability to apologize made him defensive and created an obvious tension between the two strangers. 

“So you’ll need to sign here, here, and here,” Hunk finally said, displaying multiple papers, “oh, and also here.” Lance gazed warily at the pen he was handed, and then at Keith. Keith wasn’t objecting, still willing to hire him after the whole shenanigan. He reluctantly lifted the pen and signed the documents, allowing Hunk to close up the conversation before rushing out of the stuffy room as quickly as he could.

\--------

“How was he?” Shiro asked Keith that evening, standing at the sink and cleaning the dishes. Allura had been over for an actual home-cooked meal and not the usual microwave meal or pre-assorted salad. Keith, on the other hand, finally understood why people said ‘never meet your heros.’

“He was an absolute idiot! An imbecile! Not to mention a whole hour late! Did you know he tried to accuse me of his tardiness by not giving him enough notice?” Keith was spread across the couch, a full room over from the kitchen, which led him to the resolution that he had to yell his problems out in order for Shiro to fully understand the anguish he was going through. “Not only that, Shiro, he was so fucking pretty… that shouldn’t be allowed.”

Shiro snorted, setting a plate down and moving on to a pan. “Yes, he’s a model, that’s sort of the idea. He essentially gets paid to be pretty.” 

Keith knew that, he wasn’t an idiot, but it still didn’t seem right. For such a pretty face to contain such a snide, pretentious, ostentatious, undignified…. Keith could go on and on, and still couldn’t put words to what an annoyance the guy was. “Did I do the right thing? Choosing him? I mean, we clearly can’t get along for shit.”

Shiro finally looked up, noting the upturned eyebrows and nervous frown on his little brother’s face. He let out a sigh, setting down the pan and crossing the distance so he could sit down next to Keith. “I know it’s hard to believe, but you won’t be able to get along with everyone. Once he sees what a nice, talented guy you are, I’m sure he’ll be less of a dick. If Allura’s friend’s with him, he can’t be that bad.” Keith raised an eyebrow at that, fully aware of her odd acquaintances. Allura’s friends tended to be… acquired tastes, to say it kindly. “Don't give me that look, Keith. I know what I’m talking about. Don’t stress, okay? Good vibes.”

Keith glared, the doubtful look on his face not getting any better. “Seriously?” He asked, his voice breaking.

Shiro knew better than to laugh at that, and it was a noble effort indeed, but a snicker escaped him. Miraculously, it didn’t piss Keith off. He was already too pissed at Lance. “Seriously,” Shiro reassured, giving Keith’s shoulder a squeeze. “Why don’t you go to bed early? Rest up?”

Keith nodded shakily, pulling himself off the couch and trotting off to his room pitifully. A bittersweet feeling filled Shiro as he watched, amusement at his turmoil and pain from seeing how upset he had become. He hated that Keith was wrapped up in the industry at such a young age. Yes, he avoided the media, and yes, he was very talented and successful, but he was so young. Part of him wished Keith could have lived a low key life, but Keith was anything but low key. 

Keith wrapped himself in layers of blankets, in a room lit by soft light radiating from an outdated nightlight he’d been using since elementary school. He couldn’t seem to throw it out. Gentle music seeped from the radio, helping to lull him to sleep, but all he saw was the aggravating face of the pretty Latino boy with the sea blue eyes and the mischievous smile. It brought him anything but peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally picking this back up! I had dropped it, but I've decided I want to try to work on more of the incomplete fics I've started, this one being the first I plan on completing. I won't promise consistent updates, but I'll do my best to update in reasonable time intervals. Feedback from you guys is what really inspires me to keep things like these up. I love hearing what you think!  
> Thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!


	3. Fit Like a Glove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets fitted and Keith gets a Twitter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't actually know how twitter works because I don't have one  
> ALSO  
> Hope y'all like this

“Remember the first fitting is today at noon. Please don’t be late. I’m linking the address.”

Lance got Hunk’s message at 7:03 AM, waking him up before his usual 7:15 AM alarm. His room was dim, with rays of sunlight coming in through his curtains and illuminating the small pile of clothes stashed away in the corner of the room. Lance stared at the message, thinking about the week before when he had met Kogane. He hadn’t spoken to him since, not seeing a need to, but he had looked him up. Keith Kogane was a lot more successful than he expected. He couldn’t find any articles on the designer’s personal life, which bugged him. 

Lance assumed the man was gay. He prided himself on his ‘gay-dar,’ and the fact that Keith was a fashion designer strengthened his hypothesis. The guy was also pretty young. It was unlikely he went to college to learn fashion, but then again neither did Lance. Sure, designing and modeling were very different, but Lance decided not to obsess over the guy’s education. Then there was the whole ‘80’s emo look,’ which, to be frank, eluded Lance in all aspects. Kogane made some pretty solid designs, things that Lance would probably wear without a second thought, and for some reason he chooses to dress in all back and skip his haircut? It concerned him.

He finally rolled out of bed, regretting staying up till 3 the previous night and reluctantly going through his morning routine. All the while, he was thinking about seeing Keith again. Would he be rude? Boring? Immature? He honestly couldn’t tell.

It turned out the answer was none of the above. Lance arrived fifteen minutes early, striding into the building confidently and meeting Hunk in the lobby. “Look who’s here on time!” Lance announced, getting right in Hunk’s face. 

Hunk cleared his throat and took a step back, smiling warily at Lance. “You are,” he answered while shooting him two thumbs up. “Now let’s get going, we’re on the fifth floor.” 

As Lance followed Hunk, he examined the building. It was like a ware house for the rich, elevators around every bend and wood flooring. There weren’t quite chandeliers, but for a workshop, the place was pretty nice. Hunk finally stopped at an elevator at the back of the lobby. “You wanna push the button?” Hunk eyed Lance knowingly, smirking at the childish excitement on Lance’s face.

“Hell yeah.” He jabbed the up arrow with his finger and the arrow lit up. That’s when he noticed the snicker. Lance spun around on his heels and felt his gaze narrow when he saw Kogane stifling his laughter behind him. To Lance’s amazement, Keith actually had some red with his mostly black outfit. Talk about edgy. “What?” He spat bitterly, catching Hunk’s attention.

“Are you, like, 8?” Keith asked, his voice shaky from restraining his laughter. “Seriously, who gets that excited about using an elevator?”

Lance huffed, placing his hands on his hips before he spoke. “What, you can’t handle it when people actually appreciate the little things in life? We can’t all be emo like you.”

“I’m not—whatever,” Keith dropped the topic, looking away from Lance and tapping his foot as he waited on the elevator.

“You’re no fun,” Lance commented, looking directly at the other man. Keith bristled, his eyes widening and his cheeks flushing angrily. 

Keith had begun to open his mouth, but he was interrupted by the elevator doors swinging open. “Wow, would you look at that,” Hunk said, grabbing Lance’s arm and notifying him of the new development, “time to go up.” All three filed into the elevator, with Hunk standing in between Lance and Keith. Lance felt a little dumb to admit it, but he had totally forgotten Hunk was there in the midst of his conversation with Keith. He didn’t want to call it an argument, because it really was stupid, and to be honest, Lance enjoyed having an opportunity to practice being witty. 

On the fifth floor, Keith led them to one of the rooms and unlocked it. Keith held the door for Hunk, but let go when Lance was about to enter the room, hitting him in the forehead. Keith, of course, feigned immediate innocence. “Oh, whoops, my bad,” he cooed, totally disregarding the annoyed yelp Lance had let out in response. “Anyway, this shouldn’t take too long. I’ve got almost all of the pieces done and I adjusted them to your measurements, but I want to be sure they fit the way I want them to.”

The room was actually very neat, with organized stacks of fabric on one wall and completed designs hung on assorted racks. There was a corkboard with papers and designs attached to it on the far wall, and dingy lighting. Keith walked over to one rack with a piece of paper labeled “Lance” taped to the front of it. There were five outfits that looked completed, and then some crazy scraps hanging next to the clothing. Keith reached for the first once, pulling out a tunic-like sweater with a fitted neck and translucent material. It glittered in the shabby lightings, wadding up easily in Keith’s hands. “This is the first one,” Keith informed, grabbing a pair of what almost resembled parachute pants. They were black with blue pockets that matched the sweater, and Lance took them in. They were… interesting? “You can change behind the panel over there, and then come out here so I can adjust it.”

Lance nodded, accepting the clothing from him and ducking behind the panel. It was a little cramped and a lot dimmer. The pants went on rather easily, hugging his body snugly and minimally constricting his movement. The top was a little more confusing. He didn’t want to risk ripping the thin material, and successfully located the zipper on the back, but then he couldn’t find where his arms were meant to go. It was a bit of an abstract sweater, if you could even call it that. After a minute of trying to figure it out, he walked out with the garment adorning his shoulders ceremoniously, but certainly not how Keith had intended for it to be worn. “I couldn’t figure it out,” he explained before the two had a chance to say anything.

Keith tore his eyes away from Lance’s bare torso and met his eyes. “That’s fine,” he managed without stuttering, gesturing for him to approach. “I’ll show you.”

“Hey Keith?” Hunk interrupted, startling him out of his Lance-induced state. “I’m going to go out in the hall to answer this call, that’s not a problem, right?”

“No, no problem at all,” Keith assured, fully aware of Lance’s proximity. He gulped as he turned back to the model, the opening and closing of the door sounding a bit like a death sentence. “Okay, can you, um, lift your arms?” He asked, focusing on his work.

To his surprise, Lance wasn’t making any snarky remarks as he adjusted the fabric. Keith’s hands were gentle, barely brushing Lance’s skin when he had to shift the cloth. He fiddled with the shirt for a minute until it was on right, helping Lance to slide his long arms into the sleeves. “Okay, not bad,” he muttered to himself as he looked the top over. Keith reached for some pins and began to pinch the fabric in several areas: the curve of Lance’s back, the fit on his shoulders, the bottom rim of the shirt, and so forth until the image in front of him matched the image in his sketches. “Okay,” He repeated a little breathlessly, his face reddening once more. He was used to working with models, he knew this was stupid, but he felt so embarrassed around Lance. Maybe it was because he knew he picked the model because he thought he was pretty, or maybe it was because of how Lance got on his nerves, but there was a sort of spark when it came to Lance. Not the romantic, cutesy spark, but the sort of spark that lands in a hay stack and ends up burning down a forest.

Keith knelt, looking at the pants for the first time. The length was fine, but it didn’t fit quite right around the crotch. Of course it had to be the crotch. “I’m going to, um, adjust this, here,” he said awkwardly, gesturing towards Lance’s hips and groin, “so just tell me if you’re, like, uncomfortable or anything.”

Lance hummed something in reply, straightening his posture and lifting his arms so they wouldn’t be in the way. He caught himself holding his breath as he felt Keith’s hands brush his hips cautiously, pinning wads of fabric that were bunched up in all the wrong places. They had been fairly quiet before, but now, as Keith worked on the pants, it was dead silent.

The door swung open, startling Keith and making him loosen his grip on the pin he was holding. Hunk’s arrival caused both of them to jump, successfully sticking Lance with the pin Keith had been holding. “Shit!” Lance scolded, jumping away from Keith and removing the pin from the pants. Luckily it hadn’t broken the skin, but now both of them were properly riled. 

“Oh geez, did I scare you guys?” Hunk asked, noting their wide eyes and jittery demeanors. “Aw, sorry guys, is everyone okay?”

“Okay?” Lance asked loudly, “No, not really, seeing how Keith just stabbed me in the leg!”

“It was an accident! I flinched, I’m sorry!” Keith cried, reaching to take the pin back. “Gosh Lance, I really didn’t mean to… I mean, I never--”

“Quit your moping, mullet, it’s not that bad.” Lance said, crossing his arms and approaching Keith, who was still kneeling. “Here’s the pin, just don’t let it happen again.”

Keith breathed out a sigh of relief, accepting the pin and reaching towards Lance with shaky hands. “Almost done,” Keith said as he finished adjusting the pants. “Okay, there’s still more designs. When you change out of that one, try not to jostle the pins.”

Lance nodded, examining the final outfit. Surprisingly, it worked. The pants accentuated his long legs, and the fabric of the shirt glimmered beautifully as he moved. “Wow,” he mumbled, too caught up in his own reflection to listen to what Keith was saying.

“What did you expect? Garbage?” Keith asked, feeling slightly offended at Lance’s apparent shock. Was it really that hard to believe he could have some good designs?

“Oh, um, no,” Lance said awkwardly, snatching the next outfit and moving behind the panel.

Hunk moved in next to Keith, examining the clothing left on the rack. “Nice work,” he complimented, smiling kindly at Keith. Keith grimaced, not sure what to say in response.

“Thanks?”

Hunk chuckled, patting his back. “Just embrace the compliment dude,” he said gingerly, moving back towards the seat he had been occupying earlier.

The next outfit, an actual tunic, didn’t require too much adjusting. It fit loosely, so Keith didn’t have to worry about coming into contact with Lance. He lost himself in his work, forgetting about Lance and only seeing his art as he made new alterations and questioned changing major points of the overall design. They got through the other clothes efficiently, and Hunk helped to keep a steady flow of conversation, breaking the tension between the two. 

“This is the last one for now,” Keith finally said, bringing out an outlandish vest that rippled like the ocean paired with white shorts and fishnet tights. “I’ve yet to complete the accessories for this, but I figured you could go ahead and try on the main parts. There’ll be a hat, and probably something around the neck and wrists.”

Lance nodded, accepting the clothing. The vest was made from a heavy material that was coarse with a satin-like finish on one side. He changed quickly, stepping out for Keith to check it. 

“This one’s pretty good,” Keith said as he played with the material, sticking a pin in here and there. “This should be quick.”

“Did you make the fishnets? Or are designers allowed to use pre-existing clothes in their shows?” Lance asked curiously, not able to imagine weaving the threads together to make them by hand.

Keith was surprised to hear Lance speak. “Well, um, it’s sorta complicated, but if you’re accusing me of plagiarism, I’m not breaking any fashion copyright laws, so…”

“I wasn’t accusing,” Lance said resolutely, “Hunk, did I sound accusing?”

“I’m not part of this,” Hunk replied, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

“Do you always expect the worst from people?” Lance finally asked, looking down at Keith, who was nearly finished. “I was just trying to make conversation.”

“Yeah, and I wasn’t trying to offend you, and I never said--”

Lance gawked. “A blatant lie to my face? You did indeed say I accused you!”

“No I didn’t,” Keith countered, stepping away reproachfully to examine his handiwork. “You’re delusional, buddy. I’m done, just go get changed.”

Lance sulked off, getting out of stupid Keith’s designs as quickly as he could manage without harming them. “I’m not delusional,” he muttered to himself, lacing up his shoes angstily. 

He shoved the clothing in Keith’s hands roughly, breaking away and heading to the door. “See ya later, mullet.” Hunk got up in a frenzy, apologizing as he followed Lance out the door.

“Can you try to treat your employer with a little respect?” Hunk asked, a tad annoyed. It wasn’t like Hunk to get annoyed. “You’re behaving like middle school you.”

Lance grimaced. “Did you really have to bring that up?”

“If it gets you to behave,” Hunk said without a shred of regret.

“Whatever.”

Later that evening, Lance was back at home, sulking rather pitifully, when he heard a knock on his door. “Probably Pidge,” he reasoned, turning down the television and going to answer it. His short, goblin like friend wasn’t on the other side of the door, however. Instead, a tall, slender man with tan skin and long, blond hair leaned up against the door frame. His eyes crinkled with delight when he saw the shorter Latino. 

“Lance,” he greeted fondly, trying to let himself in.

“Lotor,” Lance replied coldly, making to close to door. Lotor caught it with his foot and leaned further in.

“Why so cold, baby? You haven’t actually rejected me to work for lame little Kogane, have you?” Lotor spoke with a deep, sensual voice, not afraid to eye Lance’s body. “My offer always stands, babe.”

“Ew, gross,” Lance spat, consciously using more effort to shut the door and feeling a little ridiculous. He knew the other man was stronger. If he wanted in, he’d get in. “I’m in no way interested in modeling your shitty ‘clothing,’ if you can even call it that. When was the last time your designs actually covered someone’s genitals?”

Lotor chuckled. “It’s part of the art, McClain. You should get that.”

Lance scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And how many allegations of rape from your models?”

He taller man’s smile never left his face. “We both know all of those phony claims have been silenced. Do you not feel safe with me?”

“Do you really have to ask?”

Lotor’s smile slipped away for a second, replaced with a vile frown, before he resumed the sultry smile. “You know you want it; I can make you feel good, babe, you don’t even have to say yes.”

Lance felt something vile in the back of his throat. How had Lotor never been found guilty and sentenced for sexual assault? “You want me to touch your dick that badly?” He asked, watching as Lotor’s gaze lightened in anticipation. Without a moment’s hesitation, Lance kicked Lotor’s groin and slammed the door shut, locking each and every lock on his front door. He glanced through the peephole, relieved to see Lotor slumping away in defeat. 

He hadn’t told Hunk about Lotor’s advances, but he was sure Hunk had an idea. He canceled the contract signing immediately as soon as he had caught wind of something unsettling. 

Lance thought back to earlier that day, with Keith. He had been nervous to even touch Lance, and had even asked for his consent before he adjusted the more… private regions of the design. He felt an overwhelming wave of appreciation flood over him when he noted Keith’s thoughtfulness. Sure, the guy’s personality was a bit conflicting with his own, but he seemed nice.

And Lance had been a complete douche. Oh shit.

******

Keith’s eyes were glued to screen as Lance from two years ago walked the runway like a pro. It had been his first big gig, his debut, and what really got him all the media attention. He was lithe, sensual, and graceful, wearing the clothes with pride no matter how ridiculous they were. How did he pull everything off?

Keith turned away, looking through his old sketches and remembering how they had looked on Lance. He recalled how close they had been, the warmth radiating off of Lance as his own hands gently brushed by his soft skin. Gosh, it was soft. Lance was best known for his skin care routines, he knew that from the interviews he had read, but he wasn’t ready for such smooth, perfect skin. Keith’s own hands were calloused and dry, and he had a bandage wrapped around his left hand where he had stabbed himself fairly seriously while working on a complicated stitch.

He looked back up to the videos of Lance. Lance smiled flirtatiously, often clad in scandalous outfits that showed off his toned chest. Keith had seen that chest earlier that day. It had been inches from his face; he had nearly touched that chest. 

Keith shook his head violently, pushing out any creeping thoughts from the dark recesses of his mind. “I will not make this weird,” he said with determination, closing the tab and getting up. Keith paced the room, his heart racing as he thought back to Lance. He wanted to stop thinking about him, he knew it did him no good, but every time he thought he had escaped, he caught himself thinking about him again. 

The looming question he had been avoiding finally voiced itself: “What does Lance think of me?” Lance was clearly prone to disagree with him; it felt as though the few conversations they had had always managed to become arguments. So maybe Lance didn’t like his personality. Keith could deal with that… maybe. Did Lance have a significant other? Keith felt himself startle at that thought, wondering how it came from his mind. It wasn’t like he cared or anything, right?

Purely for research, and not at all for personal reasons, Keith found himself searching: ‘Lance McClain girlfriend?’ Links to news articles popped up, many with headlines including the words ‘bi.’ That was interesting. Keith clicked the totally not clickbait ‘Top 11 male models you didn’t know were LGBT’ and scrolled until he found Lance’s name, a little over halfway down.

‘Lance McClain, success story all the way from Cuba, is well liked in the media for his fun loving personality. But did you know the popular model identifies as bi? In a tweet posted on Sept. 23, 2016, Lance said: “f*ck off homophobes, I’m bi af. #pride #singleandreadytomingle #represent #LGBT #bi,” stirring up quite a bit of controversy for his vulgar language.’

Keith scoffed at the tweet, but he could feel his heart fluttering inside his chest at the prospect of Lance being interested in him. Not like it mattered though, because Keith was totally not interested in Lance, not at all, that would be totally unprofessional and unreasonable. Keith was chuckling nervously out loud now, going back to his original search window.

“Maybe you should check his social media for his current relationship status,” Shiro advised, startling Keith, who was now sputtering and coughing. 

“Shit, how long have you been standing there?” Keith asked, instinctively closing the page.

Shiro chuckled, walking closer. “Long enough. So, you’ve got a crush, huh?”

Keith gawked. “Um, no! Not on Lance, we don’t get along at all, you should see us try to have a conversation! I don’t even know the guy,” Keith averted his gaze, twiddling his thumbs. “Why are you always here when I need to vent out my frustrations?”

“We live in the same apartment?” Shiro answered uneasily, not sure if that was the correct answer. “Look, if you need to be left alone, I’ll leave. Or, if you want me to help you set up a twitter so you can follow him or whatever, I’m here for you.”

Keith bit his lip, his gaze trailing over to his computer. “Wouldn’t that be weird? Just following him out of the blue?”

Shiro snorted at his brother’s concerns and snatched a stool so he could sit next to him. “You know him in real life, so it’s not that weird to follow him on social media. He won’t think anything of it. Now, let’s get started.” Shiro shimmied closer and opened back up the web browser. “Don’t worry, you can also follow me and my friends. I know you don’t have any friends,” Shiro’s comment made Keith’s mouth hang open in indignation, unsure of how to properly respond to his brother’s insult.

Shiro was still laughing at him as Keith mumbled “whatever” and watched Shiro set up his account. “Name: Keith Kogane,” Shiro spoke allowed as he filled in the empty boxes, “which email do you use?” He asked, hesitating. Keith helped him fill in the information, choosing a ‘weak’ password and an overly complicated and equally lame username. “You sure you want to go with @Keithkogayne?” Shiro asked, fairly underwhelmed with his little brother’s choice.

“It works, doesn’t it?” Keith asked with a shrug, happy with his choice.

Shiro sighed. “All right. You also need a profile pic— wait! I’ve got the perfect one!” Shiro opened files before Keith knew what he was doing and uploaded the photo of Keith from his 21st birthday, bleary eyed and blurry with red marker scribbled on his face and a poorly drawn purple dick on his forehead. His mouth was open in a half smile and his hair was greasy—to be nice, he looked like shit.

“Wait, maybe not--” Keith began, trying to fight Shiro off of the keyboard, but the photo had uploaded, and Shiro had saved the profile. 

“We can upload a bio later, this is more important.”

“I can change that, right?” Keith asked, glaring at the photo. 

“Do you know how?” Shiro countered, a sly grin on his face as he searched his own twitter and followed it. He clicked on several people, including his girlfriend Allura, her uncle Coran (Keith didn’t understand why he had to follow that crazy old man,) Shiro’s best friend Matt (which was essentially just a meme page,) Matt’s little sister Pidge (who Keith could actually consider a friend,) that one guy Hunk (how did Shiro know him?) and, much to Keith’s dismay, Lance. They were a few other faces scattered in there that Keith couldn’t begin to guess how he may know them, but his first priority was Lance not seeing the photo on his twitter.

“Wait, wait, Shiro, can we change the photo before Lance sees?” Keith begged, fighting for control over the mouse. Shiro, of course, was much stronger. It was to be expected that Lance was on his twitter 24/7, because mere seconds after the follow he got a notification that Lance was messaging him. “What the fuck have you done?” Keith cried, leaping back. 

A ping sounded from the computer and Keith managed to take a peek at the message.

Lance McClain (@TheRealSmashMouth): ‘WTF is this really you or were you hacked lol’

Keith emitted a high pitched sound, not sure how he should interpret the message. It was good that Lance responded to him instantly rather than “left him on read,” right? But then again, was it really a positive message? Keith couldn’t tell. Shiro was watching him expectantly. “You gonna reply, pal?” He asked, nudging his fairly catatonic brother. 

Keith sat forward, his hands hovering above the keyboard as he pondered how to respond. Maybe he could pretend he was hacked, or it was some bot, and play it off like it wasn’t him at all. But Shiro was watching, so he figured he’d use the truth as an excuse.  
Keith Kogane (@KeithKogayne): ‘My brother set up my account but yeah its me haha’

“Houston, we have contact. I repeat, we have contact,” Shiro said playfully, waggling his eyebrows at Keith. “So, you ready to download the app for Twitter on your phone?”


	4. Friends??

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two realize maybe they don't hate each other as much as they originally conceived. There may be a speedo involved.

Keith shifted his weight, eyeing the door suspiciously as doubt clouded his mind. This wasn’t very professional, he knew it even as he stood on the porch, hand levitating by the doorbell. He was here by his own choice, not even Shiro had egged him on into going. Yet all the confidence he had felt the previous night when he decided to visit had fleeted, and now, as he felt his face going red, his fight-or-flight instincts were kicking in. “To hell with it,” he told himself as he rang the doorbell, listening to it echo throughout the house. Impatient, he rang it again before he lost his courage. And just like that, it was gone. “Shit, I shouldn’t be here,” he told himself, fully intending to back away when he heard locks shifting behind the door. 

“Keith?” The man on the other side of the door asked, opening the door further. “What’s up?”

Keith felt his throat go dry when he saw the wide expanse of skin and the small pair of swim trunks Lance was clad in. He tried to pretend he couldn’t see everything from the way the damp material hugged Lance’s body, but he could, Keith could see everything. A towel was wrapped around Lance’s shoulders and fat droplets fell from his soaked hair and onto his tan skin. “Um,” Keith said intelligently, ripping his gaze away from Lance. Lance raised an eyebrow, leaning in further.

“Yes?” Lance encouraged, oblivious to how flustered Keith was.

“I, um, was wondering…” Keith paused again, rubbing the back of his head and trying to remember exactly why he had decided to come, and why he thought this would be a good idea. “Your birthday? When is it?”

Lance blanched, confusion evident on his features. “Um, pretty sure that’s online somewhere mullet. Need my help googling stuff?” Lance was teasing him, Keith could tell by his tone of voice. ”Okay, I’m just gonna pretend this isn’t really weird. Wanna come in?” Lance stepped back and let the door swing entirely open.

Keith followed Lance inside his home, twiddling his thumbs and trying to appear casual. Lance was still practically naked, and it took everything Keith had to not look at the outline of his dick. Gosh, he really felt like an intrusive creep now.

“Okay, so did you really come over to know my birthday?” Lance asked, ruffling his hair with the towel and sitting back on his couch, wetting the material and manspreading obliviously. That was not an image Keith needed in his head.

“No, that’s not why I came,” Keith admitted, choosing to stand a good five feet from Lance, just to be safe.

Lance waited expectantly, crossing his arms. “So? What brings you to my humble abode?” 

Shit. He needed a better excuse. Recollection dawned on Keith, relieving him of the task of bullshitting another lame story as to why he just happened to be there. “I wanted to apologize,” he said honestly, finally looking Lance in the eye. He could tell when Lance’s expression changed, no longer teasing and curious, but somber and even a little guilty. “We seem to have snagged a little, somehow, and I just wanted to make sure there’s nothing between us. I really appreciate your willingness to work with me.” 

Lance sat up, letting the towel fall to his lap and looking Keith over. He seemed genuine, eyes flitting to and fro, unsure of what to do. Lance sighed. “Listen, you don’t have to apologize. I was making things difficult, it’s my fault. Hunk always says I’m immature whenever I’m around other talented people.” Keith tried not to gasp at the compliment, but couldn’t help himself. Lance wasn’t just a pretty face, or a jerk. Lance was just as awkward and guilty as him. “Hey, if you want, I’ve got some spare swim trunks and a heated pool, so if you’re interested….” Keith smiled warmly in reply, trying not to feel too giddy. 

“Y-yeah, sure,” he agreed. Lance led him back to a hall closet, digging through some towels and handing one to Keith.

“They should be in here,” Lance grunted, reaching around inside the messy closet and pulling his arm out with a small wad of material. “Speedo?” He asked jokingly, holding it up and whistling.

Keith laughed, really laughed, and shook his head. “No thank you,” he said, watching as Lance threw the red speedo into the pile accumulating next to the closet.

Lance dug around some more, frowning. “Um,” he said after a minute of digging and finding nothing, “I think all I’ve got is the speedo. If you’re uncomfortable, you could borrow this pair,” Lance said, gesturing to himself, “and I could wear the speedo. Or you could just leave, it’s whatever.”

Keith gulped. He knew there was no way he’d survive is he saw Lance in a speedo. But, he really didn’t want to leave when they were making progress and even getting along. Sure, it wasn’t like they were getting engaged, but I felt like a big step for Keith. “Uh, the speedo’s fine, I guess,” he finally said, grabbing it from the top of the pile and glancing at it. 

“Cool, okay,” Lance said in a breathy voice, pitched higher than usual. “Okay, you can change in the bathroom down the hall.”

Keith nodded, shuffling down the hall and locking the bathroom door. He grabbed his phone and pondered who he could ask for help. Pidge? Pretty sure she was Lance’s friend too, and wouldn’t hesitate to rat him out. Allura? Nice sometimes, but scary other times. He wasn’t risking it. Shiro? Questionable. Matt? Useless. Shiro it was. 

Keith: Hey is it smart to wear nothing but a red speedo around your crush?? Help

Shiro: …

Shiro: Shit, Keith, wtf did you do?

Keith: Shiro help seriously he’s waiting on me should I or not 

Shiro: seduce him ;)

Keith: not what I was looking for but okay

That was useless. Keith looked back to the speedo, and decided he had lost. He shimmied out of his pants, replacing his boxers with the snug speedo. It covered everything, thank goodness, but didn’t leave too much to the imagination. With a sigh, he pulled his t-shirt over his head and folded his clothes. At least Lance would be mostly naked too. Wait, that made it worse.

Having given up, Keith trudged out of the bathroom in the best display of confidence he could. “They fit?” Lance asked before turning around. 

“Somewhat,” Keith answered honestly, tugging at the back so his butt wasn’t hanging out precariously. “So, where’s this pool of yours?”

Lance should have known better. Fuck, he really should have known better, because now Keith of all people was standing awkwardly in his living room, practically naked and blushing. Fuck. Keith was built better than Lance had expected, with actual abs and defined biceps and a bulge that would be inappropriate to stare at. “Follow me,” Lance replied weakly, trying to walk casually but feeling all too self-conscious with Keith behind him. Thankfully, it was a short walk to his backyard. It was then Lance noticed how odd this whole endeavor was. “So there’s the pool, and a hot tub over there if you’re interested.” Lance laid his towel on a fold out chair, gesturing for Keith to do the same. “Wanna race?”

Keith frowned, laying his towel down and almost forgetting the speedo he was wearing. “Is that a challenge?” He asked, brushing his hair out of his face. Lance smirked at the response, speed walking towards the pool. Keith walked faster, and soon they were jogging, and then sprinting to the water’s edge. “Okay, on the count of three,” Keith established, getting in a starting position. “One, two,” and Lance had pushed off a count early, cutting through the water like a bullet. “Shit!” Keith pushed off after him, but even without the head start Lance would have beat him. When he came up on the other side of the pool, Lance was grinning at him triumphantly. “You cheated,” Keith accused, despite being unable to stop smiling. 

“Did I?” Lance asked, flicking water at him, “what a shame.”

Keith returned the splash, making clear eye contact with Lance when Lance picked up on what was about to happen. “Oh? Oh, I see. You chose the wrong person to spar with, buddy.” Lance sent a tremendous wave of water tumbling down on Keith, who was now sputtering and indignant. 

Keith began kicking with his feet, creating splashes of water that went in all directions. Lance retaliated with long sweeps of his arms, pushing the water right back at Keith with astonishing force. The battle escalated, neither of them ready to renounce their claim to victory. They swam back and forth, and before Keith knew it he was laughing and joking and actually enjoying himself. He felt exposed, but in a good way, and wasn’t sure if he should be enjoying a childish game so much. 

“I win again!” Lance proclaimed, doing some weird underwater aerobic victory dance.

“Says who?” Keith asked, offended. His arms were crossed, and his hair was plastered all over his face. 

“I do!” Lance declared, sending another playful splash at Keith. “Race you to the hot tub?”

“On the count of three,” Keith agreed once more, eyeing Lance. Before he even started to count, Keith was darting off in the direction of the hot tub and laughing as Lance floundered around in shock behind him. Keith actually beat him, leaping over the barrier between the pool and the hot tub effortlessly. Lance was close behind, shock still written across his face. 

“I can’t believe you stole my move!” Lance said indignantly, moving towards the opposite side of the hot tub. Keith was out of breath, and decided a shrug would be a good response. “Whatever, you know you cheated.”

As they caught their breath, none of them noticed the gate swinging open. “Two bros, chillin’ in a hot tub, five feet apart ‘cause they’re not gay,” A pesky voice sang, struggling to keep from laughing. Instantaneously, Lance and Keith turned to saw Pidge with her phone out, snickering as she reviewed the prime footage she had just captured. “Amazing,” she said, “a gay and a bisexual cohabitating in the wild.” 

Keith leaped up, exasperation and embarrassment written all over his face. “Pidge, what the fuck?” He asked, but realized his mistake as soon as Pidge began to lose it. Keith glanced back down, face growing pale as he remembered the tight reed speedo snug on his bottom. “Shit. Pidge, stop laughing,” he tried defensively. Lance looked nervously to Keith, his face lighting up when he remembered the speedo. 

“Oh shit, I had forgotten,” Lance began, a smile tugging on his lips.

“Don’t be embarrassed Keith, you look hot. Right, Lance?”

It was Lance’s turn to go pale. He turned to Pidge, cursing her under his breath before turning back to Keith. “Um, yeah, you’re hot, bro,” He tried to make it sound casual, but his shaky voice was the opposite of Pidge’s cool demeanor and it was far too obvious he was embarrassed.

“Shit, am I making you uncomfortable?” Keith asked, sinking back down in the water to cover himself. The unease on his face hurt Lance, who clearly remembered the smile that had been there a minute ago. 

“No, you’re not,” Lance tried again, but Pidge was butting in.

“Don’t worry, Keith, Lance is always awkward when he’s aroused.” The shit-eating grin on Pidge’s face conveyed everything. Keith was staring at Lance, trying to comprehend what Pidge had said as Lance jumped to silence her. 

“Shut up, you gremlin, why are you even here?” he whispered violently, not daring to look at Keith. 

“Shit, I’ve got to go,” Keith mumbled, not sounding genuine at all. “See you guys later.” Keith climbed out of the hot tub, once again pulling at the speedo to cover hit butt completely. Lance’s eyes followed him, something like lust flooding his senses. Keith trudged into the house quickly, his ass out of sight and Pidge grinning mischievously in its wake. 

“So, you’re not screwing yet?” Pidge asked, dipping her feet in the tub. 

Lance was not amused. “Pidge, what the hell? We were bonding, and now you’ve made it really fucking awkward.” 

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Okay, sure, whatever. But honestly, why was he wearing your speedo from high school? Surely that was on purpose.”

Lance shook his head. “It was all I could find.”

“Okay, and why were you guys hanging out together in the first place?”

“None of your business.” Lance wasn’t normally this cold to his friends, but he was pretty bummed Pidge scared Keith off. Lance got out of the hot tub and began drying off, then slid on his shoes and headed inside. All the while, Pidge was trailing after him and asking him dumb questions.

“You can’t avoid me forever, McClain,” Pidge assured him, a devilish smirk on her face as she waved good bye. 

He couldn’t believe Pidge would do that to him. Yeah, the vine reference was sorta perfect, but they were actually getting along. Lance laid back on his bed, not bothering to change. He was too disappointed with how the day had ended. “That’s dumb,” he told himself, “today was pretty great.” He reminisced to how Keith had come on his own accord to talk to him, hell, to apologize, because he wanted them to get along. When he though back to it, Keith did seem a bit flustered when Lance had first opened the door. Something sparked his memory, and he pulled up Keith’s new twitter account on his phone. Sadly, Keith had figured out how to change the profile pic, but not before Lance had screenshotted it. Lance examined the username. Just as he though: @Keithkogayne. That had to mean he was gay, right? Hope fluttered in his chest, making him feel a little dizzy as he analyzed his own feelings. 

Lance decided to repay Keith by visiting his place of residence, info kindly provided by Allura. He hadn’t really planned out what he was going to say, but he was sure it’d be fine. Lance rocked at improve. He found the apartment number and knocked loudly, eager to see Keith again. He had to admit, Keith was kind of attractive. Lance couldn’t help it if the guy had a nice face.

It wasn’t Keith who answered the door, however. It was a tall, buff man with a scar on his face and a prosthetic arm. If Lance was being honest, it was a little intimidating. That was, until the man’s face lit up in excitement after he saw Lance. “Are you here for Keith?” The man asked. Lance was pretty sure it was Shiro, Allura’s boyfriend, but he’d never seem him in person. He was kinda hot. 

Lance shook the thought out of his head, shame washing over him as he nodded in reply. He had to stop thinking everyone was hot. First Keith, now this guy? Although, come to think of it, the hunk of a man in front of him (not to be mistaken with Hunk, who in himself was a hunk,) was nowhere near as attractive as Keith. Which was a bad thing, because Lance shouldn’t think Keith was that attractive. “Yes, I’m here for Keith,” he clarified.

Shiro beckoned him in, directing him to sit on their sofa. “Keith’s just finishing up with one of the other models with some last minute fittings. He wants to be ready, you know, with the show in a week and all.”

Lance nodded in understanding, settling down on the sofa. He hoped that Shiro would leave him alone, but apparently the other man hadn’t planned on it. “So, you’re here to see Keith, yeah? He’s single, you know. And very gay.” Sitting upright, Lance turned and stared at Shiro. “What? Just though you might like to know. Just in case.”

“In case of what?” Lance asked incredulously. Shiro shrugged.

“You know what I mean. You can admit it, I won’t tell him. You like him just as much as he likes you.”

“He what?” Lance felt his face turning red as he mulled over Shiro’s words. 

Just as Shiro was realizing that maybe he shouldn’t have said that, Keith emerged with one of the female models, Shay. Lance remembered Hunk telling him about her. Keith was smiling fondly, patting her on the shoulder and laughing at something she had said. Lance felt a twinge of jealousy flare up in his gut. Shay said something in response, and Keith continued to gaze at her fondly as he helped direct her to the living room. Keith startled when he saw Lance, the smile fading from his face. Why did Lance make his smile fade?

“Lance?” Keith asked nervously, recalling what Pidge had said about… arousal. “What are you doing here?”

Lance grimaced, looking down at his feet. “I, um, this was stupid. I should go.” He stood up quickly, thanking Shiro for his hospitality and tripping over himself to get out of Keith’s line of vision. Lance was seriously confused. Shiro’s words were still tumbling around his head: “You like him just as much as he likes you.”

Keith bid Shay farewell, then turned to Shiro. “What the hell did you say to him?” He asked desperately, trying to understand what had scared Lance off.

“Nothing of consequence,” Shiro responded coolly, shrugging as though oblivious to it all. Keith’s heart was thudding in his chest, lost and confused by the conflicting emotions and fears that had been building up in his head ever since he had first discovered Lance on the front of that damned magazine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter is coming up soon! I will try to post it next week. Thanks for sticking around and reading, I appreciate all the comments and kudos! I hope you enjoyed!!!


	5. I really, really like you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's show time!

It struck Lance at about half past three in the morning: he was jealous. When he had seen Keith talking to Shay so casually, he became upset. Expressions he had never seen before filled Keith’s face as he made conversation with someone whose company he could actually enjoy. Lance could picture Keith’s face perfectly: his nose scrunched up, eyes squinted, and a big smile plastered on his face as he laughed whole heartedly with Shay. He was, without a doubt, beautiful. Not perfect, model beautiful, like the people Lance was used to working with. He was something else. Keith didn’t have sharp cheekbones, or a symmetrical face and smoldering eyes. Hell, the man had a mullet. But even with all that, Keith was the most beautiful person Lance had ever seen.

Which is what frightened Lance so much. Keith was, first and foremost, his employer according to the contract he had signed. He shouldn’t be thinking about him that way. Lance hadn’t spoken to Keith in a week, not since the failure of trying to visit Keith’s apartment. And the show was tomorrow. Well, technically it was that day, because it was three in the morning, but Lance didn’t like to think about it like that. He had to be at the runway by 7:00 so they could make last minute adjustments if they needed to, and so the models could familiarize themselves with the location. And here Lance was, unable to sleep. Instead, he was fixated on Keith. 

Lance shook his head, burrowing into his pillow and groaning in frustration. He needed to clear his mind. He was exhausted, he could feel it, but each time he closed his eyes he was left alone with his mind and Keith. Each time he opened his eyes, however, his eyelids got heavier, until he could no longer keep them open. Lance’s breathing slowed, and soon he was sleeping. It felt as though only a minute had passed when Lance darted up, awoken by his alarm clock three hours later. He had to face Keith at some point, Lance supposed. 

So he got up. Splashed cold water on his face. Did some stretching. Made some coffee. It was the usual morning routine, but Lance felt so distant from it. It could have been the fact that he was running on three hours of sleep, but Lance knew, in his heart, it was because of his anxiety. He didn’t know what he’d say to Keith. After all, he had just ran out on him. Maybe Keith had forgotten? Unlikely, but a nice idea to cling to. 

Lance was one of the last to arrive. Hunk was already there, greeting him at the front entrance. It was a lofty building, with a cramped seating area surrounding the runway. Backstage was nice for now, not too frantic or crowded. 

“Okay people, let’s get moving! Report to your fitting station so we’re not pinning things up as you walk out!” A man called, clapping his hands together loudly. Lance recognized Shiro, who was dressed in formal attire and had his hair slicked back. Next to him was Allura, smiling and whispering something in his ear that made him blush. Shiro swatted her away, so she slapped his ass and sauntered off. Shiro looked scandalized, mouth hanging open in a half smirk before remembering the task at hand. “Find the rack with your name! If you’ve got any questions, please ask myself or Keith!”

Lance was ready to get moving when he noticed Allura was coming his way. “Lance!” She greeted enthusiastically, hands resting casually on her hips. She was in sweats, with her long silver hair pulling up in a ratty bun, and she still managed to slay. 

“Queen!” Lance replied, ready to hype her up. They began to take friendly jabs at each other until Hunk reminded them that they were supposed to be working. They parted amicably, and Lance found his clothing near the end of the rows of racks. He recognized them all from his earlier fitting, and they all laid correctly on his body. 

“Looks good,” a timid voice said as he came out to show Hunk the last one. Instead of Hunk waiting behind the curtain, Keith was there, smiling nervously. Lance gulped. “Hey, Lance, you’re not upset with me, are you? You ran off kind of suddenly last week, and I want to make sure I don’t make you uncomfortable,” Keith said, looking into Lance’s eyes fiercely. 

Shit. “U-um, it was nothing, totally not your fault, sorry about making things awkward or whatever,” Lance stuttered, unable to hold Keith’s gaze. 

Keith sighed, clearly not content with that answer. “Look, I can tell you’re uncomfortable. Is it because of the speedo? Or that I’m gay? Because I swear I wasn’t trying to come on to you, I know it might have seemed like that but Pidge was really just teasing, and I… I don’t really know. I’m sorry, okay? I’m not like Lotor, I swear.”

Lance stiffened at the mention of the man. “Keith, you’re nothing like him!” Lance said, confused as to why Keith would think Lance saw him in that light. “You’ve been great, I mean, very appropriate and respectful as an employer, It’s all good.” Lance wanted to add on he wouldn’t mind if Keith was coming on to him, but he felt like that would only make the situation worse. 

“You sure?” Keith asked. It was then Lance noticed how close they were. In the bustling backstage area, they had to be close to hear each other, and their faces were only a few inches apart.

Lance gulped again, feeling his cheeks heat up. He could count Keith’s light freckles, which he hadn’t even noticed when he first met him. Keith’s eyelashes were dark and full, framing his eyes as they watched Lance carefully. Lance glanced down at Keith’s mouth, parted, relaxed, and so welcoming. When he realized what he was doing, his head shot up. “Sorry, what?” Lance asked, wetting his lips. 

Keith stared at him quizzically, worry etched on his face. “I asked if you were sure,” Keith clarified, returning Lance’s intimate gaze. 

Lance nodded, backing up a step. “Yeah, I’m good. So, this outfit look right?”

Keith nodded, stepping forward again to meet up with Lance. “It looks great,” he breathed, smiling tenderly. Lance almost lost it with that. The gentle smile on Keith’s face was nothing like the smiles he had exchanged with Shay, it was so much more. 

“Okay, cool, good,” Lance backed away again, “I’m just gonna, um, change out of this. Then go to makeup, I guess.”

Keith nodded, feeling light and bouncy. As soon as Lance was gone, the feeling was replaced with dread. What the hell? He had just promised Lance was wasn’t coming on to him, and then he went and practically drooled over the guy. Not cool! Shit, Keith was lost. He scurried off to find something to busy himself with, not even nervous about the show. He had Lance to thank for that. Instead, he was much more nervous about Lance. It didn’t help that he had had a wet dream about Lance the night before. It made him feel like a massive pervert, no matter how many times he told himself he couldn’t control his dreams. 

“Keith, did you say hi to your boyfriend?” Shiro asked, turning from Allura’s changing station and waving him over. 

Keith was on edge, and freaked when Shiro referred to Lance as his boyfriend. After frantically looking back and forth to ensure no one had heard Shiro, Keith marched over to him angrily. “Don’t call him that!” Keith said with indignation. Shiro laughed right as Allura came out in a shimmery orange dress.

“Who’s your boyfriend, Keith?” She asked, now properly intrigued. 

“No one!” Keith replied as Shiro’s eyes lit up.

“Keith has the hots for Lance,” Shiro explained. Allura’s mouth opened up in an “O” shape, slowly morphing into a smile.

“You guys will be so cute together!” She cried, already planning out in her head how she would play matchmaker.

“Wait! Both of you, wait!” Keith cried, the stress finally overwhelming him. “Guys, please don’t tell Lance anything. I’ve already made things awkward, and I’m not ready to handle rejection right now. Please, just let it be.”

Both Shiro and Allura sobered up. “Sorry for teasing you, bro,” Shiro said remorsefully, patting his shoulder. Allura nodded, smiling sympathetically.

“Don’t worry, Keith, everything will be fine,” she consoled him gently, backing up a step and spinning. “Now, tell me, how does this look?”

The show passed quickly. Keith introduced his concept, and thanked his audience for attending. From there, it was a frenzy of who goes next, where’s that head piece, how the hell did that shoe break, and so on. Normal shenanigans. Keith hardly got to see Lance because he was too preoccupied with helping organize backstage, but each time he heard hoots and applause he knew it was Lance out there. No one could hype up a crowd like Lance. 

And then it was over. He had successfully designed and displayed another line of clothing, and was already getting calls from celebrities wanting to know prices for his work. Yet he didn’t feel content at that. 

He was curled up in a chair, blocking the incessant calls when Allura approached him. “Well done, Keith,” She praised, a regal smile stretched on her face. “Some of us are going out for drinks, and we wanted to invite you. Whatdya say?”

Keith sat up, yawning. “Thanks for the invite Allura, but I’m pretty exhausted. I think I might just head home. I’m sure Shiro would love to go, though.”

Allura sighed. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but… Lance will be there.”

Keith went rigid. “Lance?” He asked, intrigued. “I don’t know, Allura, it doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

“Just say yes,” Allura begged, deflated. 

He shouldn’t. He knew he’d just get drunk, hit on Lance, and ruin everything. But he really, really wanted to. “Okay,” he agreed, standing up. “When are we going?”

Allura squealed, breaking her mature demeanor. “We’re going now, come on!”

It was a private bar. It wasn’t too crowded, most of the guests including other models and wealthy individuals. Allura had invited pretty much everyone: Shiro, Pidge, Hunk, Shay, Lance, and many people Keith couldn’t even name. Allura sweet talked the bar tender and got them all free shots, handing out the glasses giddily and urging people to have a good time. 

Lance walked up to him, empty shot glass in hand, and smiled. “Nice work, man,” he said loudly, leaning into Keith. Lance’s proximity made Keith wobble, shaky knees barely supporting him. His hadn’t taken his shot yet, and Lance eyed it with interest. “Come on Keith, bottoms up!” Lance mimicked taking a shot as he encouraged Keith. 

Keith found himself chuckling at Lance’s poor attempt at charades. He threw his head back, emptying the shot glass and licking his lips as he looked back towards Lance. Lance had faltered. His eyes were locked on Keith’s lips and his interest peaked. “You happy?” Keith asked after slamming the shot glass down on the bar theatrically. 

“Something like that,” Lance replied as his gaze lingered on Keith. “Hey, what would you say to a good old fashioned show down?”

“I’m sorry, what?” 

Lance didn’t answer, but rather grabbed Keith’s hand and dragged him to the bar tender. It was loud, and dim, and Keith ran into several people as he trailed after Lance. Once seated, Lance faced him with a serious expression on his face. “I bet I’ve got higher tolerance than you, which is why I’m challenging you. Whoever has the most shots wins!” Lance waved the bar tender over, who seemed to get the gist, laying out five shots for each of them and filling them with a clear liquid. “Ready, mullet?”

Keith sat up straight, finally grasping what Lance was saying. “A drinking competition? Really?” Keith asked in exasperation, looking around to find Allura, or Pidge, or any reason to not do this with Lance. Keith did not trust drunk-Keith in the slightest.

“Oh no, are you scared?” Lance asked, leaning forward until Keith could feel his breath on his face.

“N-no, of course not, this is just stupid!” Keith knew he sounded unsure of himself, and could feel his resolution breaking down already. Lance simply raised his eyebrows at Keith, a smirk on his face. He pushed Keith’s first shot in his direction, then picked up his own. 

“May the best man win,” Lance said before bottoming his second shot.

Keith sighed. His competitive side was taking control, and the rational part of his brain watched in dismay as Keith had his own second shot. Then they both took a third, and a fourth, and by the fifth they were beginning to laugh and spill their glasses. The final shot went down easily, taking the edge off and helping Keith to relax. This was normal. Hanging out with this gorgeous guy a foot away, totally normal, nothing to be concerned about. “That’s enough,” Keith said slowly, not quite slurring his words but feeling a lot more than buzzed. He knew he’d feel it in another ten minutes, and was ready to make his dignified escape from Lance’s closeness. Sure, it felt totally natural to be here in Lance’s presence, but there was still they tiny voice in the back of his head screaming “stop it you idiot!”

“Wanna dance?” Lance asked, sounding totally unaffected by the drinks. Or maybe that was just Keith’s perception. Nevertheless, Keith was nodding, standing up and accepting Lance’s hand as they fought through the crowd to the dance floor.

The music was fast paced, with colored lights illuminating the bodies writhing together. They stopped in an empty spot on the dance floor, and Lance began to move. If Keith was sober, he would’ve probably noticed how awful and comical Lance’s sloppy dancing was, but in the haze he was in, Lance was amazing. Keith tried moving his arms to the beat, awkwardly stomping around and trying to appear nonchalant. “Is that what you call dancing?” Lance asked, flipping his hair out of his face obnoxiously. 

“What?” Keith said innocently, analyzing his moves. They weren’t anything special, but they could be worse. Lance was laughing at him, though. “Well you’re one to talk.”

Lance’s mouth was now wide open, shock and determination written on his face. “Excuse you, Kogane, I’m the sexiest dancer I know!”

Keith nodded with sarcastic enthusiasm before losing his focus and smiling giddily at the other man. “Okay, you’re right, you’re very sexy,” Keith’s statement lacked the sarcasm that his previous statement had, but it didn’t bother Lance.

“Hell yeah I am,” Lance agreed, pulling Keith’s body up against his and pulsing with him. An outsider may have called it humping, which it sort of was, with Lance’s groin pushing up against Keith’s, but neither of them registered anything out of the ordinary. “You know, you’re sexy too,” Lance murmured into Keith’s ear, his lips actually brushing the earlobe and his breath heavy.

“T-thanks,” Keith stuttered, wrapping his arms around Lance. Lance pulled his face away from Keith’s shoulder so that their faces were even with each other’s. Lance’s heart was beating violently in his chest, and he feared it would fly out if he wasn’t careful.

“Wanna know a secret?” Lance asked him, letting his own arms fall further own Keith’s back and closer to his ass. Keith nodded excitedly, still swaying to the music. “I wanna kiss you,” Lance admitted, his filter totally gone at that point. He wasn’t even registering where they were, or what was going on, or all the reasons why it was a bad idea to say that. He wasn’t even surprised the confession fell out of his mouth.

“Yeah, okay,” Keith said, voice thick with intoxication. Keith leaned in, missing Lance’s lips and making contact with the corner of Lance’s mouth. “Whoops,” Keith chuckled. He redirected his aim, this time hitting Lance’s mouth dead on.

It was a mess, but highly addictive. Lance sucked on Keith’s bottom lip sloppily, then Keith bit at Lance’s own lips, and soon their tongues were intertwined in an odd, drunken display of affection. Each time one broke away for air, the other would close the gap greedily. The concept of time was dead to them as they stumbled off the dance floor and up against a wall, Lance grabbing at Keith’s hair as Keith palmed Lance’s groin. It was hard to hear the moans over the music, but the two continued to dry hump each other as they made out. They received several “go get a room” comments, one coming from Pidge herself. The rest of the night faded into black, a mix of weird drinks, sloppy make out sessions and strobe lights past recollection.

Keith awoke with a bitch of a headache and vile creeping up his throat. “Shit!” He spat as he stumbled off the couch and found the nearest trashcan, emptying the contents of his stomach into the bin.

“Morning sunshine,” Shiro greeted cheerfully, holding a glass of water out to Keith. “This is why I tell you not to get wasted.” Keith groaned, not even bother to return to the couch. Instead, he collapsed on the floor and grumbled something about his head. “Dude, just drink the water,” Shiro chided, forcing the glass into Keith hands. He complied, slowly sipping on it until it was empty.

“So, any news on the show yet?” Keith asked blearily, rubbing his eyes. It usually didn’t take too long for a critic to leave a shitty review on a new line of clothes. 

Shiro shook his head. “Hey Keith,” he began, looking mildly concerned, “what do you remember about last night?”

Keith frowned. Why did it matter? “Well, once the show was over Allura invited us for drinks. So I took a shot. And then… more shots. With Lance I think? Then we…” Keith’s eyes jolted open like Shiro had just poured a bucket of ice cold water on his face. “We didn’t, did we? I didn’t… I mean, you stopped me, surely, it was a dream or something, right?”

“If you’re talking about snogging Lance incessantly, that totally happened. Anything else you’re talking about, I don’t want to know.” Shiro looked smug. “So, want me to get you some more water?”

“Wait, Shiro, did I sexually assault someone under contract?” Keith asked in desperation. 

Shiro frowned. “Keith, it was pretty consensual. Besides, he wasn’t even your ‘employee’ or whatever you guys call it. The contract ended when the show ended, so you guys aren’t really in a business relationship anymore.”

“Consensual?” Keith asked, trying to put down the flutter of hope in his chest.

“Yes Keith, he was humping you just as much as you were humping him.” Shiro seemed annoyed, ready for the topic to die down. He had gloated and laughed at hung-over Keith, and was ready to leave the conversation. “Really bro, just ask him out.”

\---

Lance answered the door in sweats and sloppy bedhead, looking just as shitty as Keith felt. When he saw Keith, he stiffened, backing up a step. “I take it you remember last night, then?” Lance asked with a nervous smile, eyes flitting back and forth.

Keith swallowed. His nerves were about to consume his, but Lance was right there, right in front of him, and he couldn’t leave until Lance knew how he felt. “Last night isn’t why I’m here,” Keith said resolutely, eyes locked on Lance. “I’m here because of every day. Because last night was more than just dumb hormones and drunkenness, and I can’t let that go unsaid. Because I’ve realized that all those moments I’ve found you beautiful beyond belief are nothing compared to talking with you. And laughing with you. And being with you. Because… I really, really like you. Fuck, I probably love you, and it’s because you’re you. And I just felt like you should know that.”

Keith caught his breath, feeling more vulnerable than ever with his heart out on his sleeve. Lance was staring at him in bewilderment, his eyebrows raised and his mouth hanging open as his cheeks flushed.

“Shit, I can’t one up that,” he finally said, trying to suppress his smile. “You really had to go and be better than me at confessing your undying love for me? Like, how am I supposed to respond?”

Keith held his breath, agitated Lance was toying with him like that. “Maybe tell me if you like me or not?” He said tightly, clenching his shirt in his hands.

“Well duh I love you,” Lance said in exasperation, “but, like, how am I supposed to make it super romantic and spontaneous after you did your whole spiel?” 

Keith released the breath he had been holding. “Shit Lance, I was really freaked out you were about to tell me to fuck off,” Keith said breathlessly, not sure if this was a dream or real. “So do you wanna, I don’t know, go out or something?” 

“You’ve got to be shitting me right now. You really have to ask? And before you freak out, yes, I do want to date you!” 

Keith’s face erupted in a smile so big it hurt his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around Lance, hugging him tight and reveling in the events that had just occurred. “Shit Lance, you stink,” Keith let go, scrunching his nose in disgust and laughing.

“And you’re a shitty boyfriend. You’re just as gross,” Lance was teasing, and Keith loved it. Loved him. He sighed, and engulfed Lance in another hug.

“Love you,” he whispered, almost too quiet for Lance to hear.

“Love you too, mullet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for sticking around until the end! I hope it didn't feel too rushed, I tried to build up to the ending. I'm glad I got to complete this, and I'm happy so many of you guys enjoyed it! I'd really appreciate comments and kudos! I'm considering doing a follow up epilogue (probably with some 18+ stuff), should I??

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave feedback! I still need to check this later for errors, but reviews and kudos would be much appreciated! Thanks!


End file.
